


Angry Bubbles

by Missesbean



Category: Olympics RPF, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missesbean/pseuds/Missesbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone  got Michael.  He's pissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angry Bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> **I own nothing but my ideas, no infringement of any sorts intended. Just random little thoughts I got. Moving here to share.**

  
Anger boiled through Michael as he stood on the deck at Trials.  This was not how things were supposed to be.  He shouldn't have wanted to beat Ryan's head against the deck as much as he wanted too.  He shouldn't have wanted to step on the older man's chest and hold him down until he was screaming for his mother, or something like that.  Maybe just punching him in the face would be good too, Mike couldn't decide.    


 

It was horrible, he would sit in his stupid press conferences, answering questions oh so kindly and politely about his 'rival' Ryan, who supposedly was supposed to be his best friend?  Heh, that was a stretch right now, a huuuge stretch.  Friends were the last way Mike would be categorizing them right now, and best friends, aha, that thought alone made him laugh and to think, they had kind of sorta most definitely been dating? Riiight.  That was over.   


Right, because best friends, or even friends for that matter did what Ryan did.  That made so much sense in the world.  Heh, he'd have to ask Ryan later how that little stunt classified them as being friends.  That was, when he could look at Ryan without wanting to take him down and beat on him a little bit.  Yea, who knew when that would be, but for right now, he was going to have to just beat his sorry ass in the pool.  Yea, that's what he'd do, he'd go harder and faster than even necessary, but he'd do it, and it would be excellent and Ryan would cry.    


As Michael sat in the ready room, Ryan behind him and to the left, oh yea, he knew how many seats over too, Michael thought about all of the delicious ways he could make that happy little weasel of a swimmer cry.  Oh, let him count the ways.   The music in his ears was only fueling his desire to harm that floppy little smiling face right now too.  

 

 

\- - - 

 

 

Ryan was oblivious to the change in their dynamic.  Well, he knew Mike was off, but he just chalked it up to nerves to perform as Michael Phelps Swim God and then their little rivalry, it would have made sense.  He had no idea that as he was goofing off behind him, stretching, that Mike was thinking of all the ways he could make Ryan cry, no idea!  

On the deck, Ryan tried to give Michael a friendly smile and be all perky, but Mike was in his zone, so Ryan let him be.  There would be no talking to Ryan it looked like.  

\- - - 

As soon as he'd surfaced from slamming into the touch pad, Michael looked up at the board, a devilish smirk growing over his face.  Next to his name, was a 1 and next to Ryan, a 2.  Perfect; well, it was perfect until Ryan leaned over the lane line to give him a hug.  Michael bit back all of his urges to push that little floppy smile faced boy's head under the water and hold, patting Ryan's back gently.  To the outside world, nobody knew there was anything different.  Ryan, well, he knew something was up with how Michael barely touched him, no lingering hands.  But, he brushed it off to the many spectators and cameras, quickly getting out to go warm down and change.  

 

Of course, they'd been caught by the media crew, and that's when it got even more awkward.  Michael played the happy go lucky game well, nobody knowing anything was off.  Ryan hopped around like a jackass, like normal, making a spectacle as they left the area.  

 

As soon as nobody was around, Michael's smile was replaced by a death glare, shot in Ryan's direction.  Right now, there was nobody around, this could go quickly and Ryan wouldn't even know what hit him.  He was about to go through with his idea of beating the shit out or Ryan when the other swimmer giggled and poked him in the chest, that stupid floppy smile covering his face again.  

 

Dammit, Michael couldn't hit that face!  Ryan gave him a curious look before speaking,   **"Dude, you look like you could murder someone, who stole your dog?"**   

 

Michael turned quickly on Ryan, responding quietly in a sharp voice.   **"I could murder someone. . . and he's right in front of me... and he didn't steal my dog. In fact, my dog things he's pretty damn special, like I _used_ too."  **Growling he got up in

 

Ryan's face, eyes narrowing with that look of hate. 

 

Ryan backpedaled towards the wall, a bit worried, his voice came out creaky.   **"Uh. . . me?  What did I do?"**

 

 

 

Seriously, he didn't know what he did?  Seriously?  Eyes narrowed in on Ryan as he growled his answer,  **"You _know_  what you did. . . you. . you. . . babbling bonehead you!"  **  


 

Hearing Michael call him a bonehead, Ryan started to laugh, but stopped when Mike jabbed his finger in Ryan's chest, telling him to shut up.   **"I don't want to hear another goddamn word from you, you, blabbering bastard!"**  


 

Ryan gasped at Michael's words, shocked that he was so crabby! He had no clue what he did! 

 

 

**"What kind of idiot does what you did? You're going to get yourself beat the hell up sometime, you know it?  You and your foolish games! You're not funny, Ryan, not funny!"** Michael glared at Ryan, thinking about the hell he'd put up with, and how damn mad  he still was.  

 

The other, was still confused, so he figured he should just ask.   **"I really don't know what got your speedo up your ass. . . "**   

Rolling his eyes, Michael pressed further up against Ryan, towering over him with an unforgettable glare.   **"Oh, let me think. . . how about the super glue in my speedo that caused THREE fucking HOURS in the ER to get the fucking thing unattached! Did you REALLY think that was funny, you asshat?"**  


 

 

Ryan's eyes went huge, then a smirk grew over his face.   **"Dude. . . I wish I could take credit for that. . . honest to God, I wish I could. . . but I didn't glue your junk to your speedo. . . "**  Ryan was having a really hard time keeping himself from laughing, but damn, that must have been uncomfortable.  

 

Mike's eyes narrowed even more, finger pushing him in the chest.  " **If you didn't, then who the hell did?"**  


As if on, cue, a smirking girl popped out of wherever she had been hiding.  Oh yes, he knew that girl.  She trained with Bob. . . her ass was so grass.  Letting go of Ryan, Michael tore off in her direction, snarling. 

 

Sliding down the wall with his head in his hands, Ryan laughed and laughed and laughed. Someone glued Michael Phelps' junk to his speedo. . . and it wasn't him.    



End file.
